


Find Your Anchor

by AvisLeviosa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2738006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvisLeviosa/pseuds/AvisLeviosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles finds a body in the woods, his first concern is finding who left it there. His second concern, however, is keeping his father's job safe, and he knows he can't do it alone. He finds help and protection from an unlikely source, and learns that although things aren't always as they seem, that's not always a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I used the tag 'mild gore' because it's really nothing that hasn't been in the show teen wolf, but if you have a super weak stomach you might want to be careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tthe sexual content warning will take place in later chapters.

“Just start from the beginning, alright?”

Stiles nodded gravely, lips pursed tightly together with a gaze that was pointedly trained on the dirt and mud beneath his feet. He sat on a large rock, elbows resting on his knees and his hands hanging loosely between his legs, unable to look up and meet the concerned look of his father crouching before him.

“Yeah, I uh…” with an anxious lick of his lips Stiles couldn’t stop himself from glancing to his left, a blue tarp now covering the corpse that way lying only a few yards away. He had found bodies before, enough that he could logistically call it an unintentional hobby although he never would. This one was different though. The uneasy feeling that usually swelled in the pit of his stomach was full blown nausea, the haze that was residually left behind from shock had managed to become vertigo, and for the first time since he saw half of Derek’s sister mutilated in the woods so long ago, Stiles wasn’t sure if he could keep himself from vomiting.

“Stiles.” His dad’s gentle call grounded him again and Stiles abruptly turned his head to face him, having not noticed that he was staring at the tarp. The image of what was under it, the mutilation, was seared in his mind. He blinked once or twice, trying to catch the train of thought that had broken away from him.

“Right,” he started again, eyes still wide in remembrance and concentration, “I was uh… I was just,” _relax. Just relax. You’ve done this like, a million times. Ten million times._ His shoulders sank slowly with a forced release of tension and he closed his eyes momentarily to think. “I was looking for Isaac’s… thing.”

The Sheriff quirked an eyebrow at his boy. “Isaac’s thing?”

“Yeah.” Stiles pressed on apologetically, knowing very well that he was being too vague. “His uh,” he snapped his fingers a few times before tapping them on the inside of his knee. “His phone, he dropped his phone last night out here. He was going to try to find it but I told him I would go, he’s-” he trailed off, the lids of his eyes sinking and his lips pursing and an expression of self-criticism. “He’s got an exam that he needs to study for tomorrow, Scott is helping him.” It seemed completely meaningless now that he said it aloud, now that he had found the body and he was sitting here surrounded by four squad cars and an ambulance that was there solely to transport a corpse to the morgue. This one certainly couldn’t be saved.

“His phone?” Sheriff furrowed his brow in a look that conveyed his confusion, but not doubt. “What was his phone doing out here, Stiles?” Before the younger Stilinski could respond an expression of suspicion and fear dawned on his father’s face. “Tell me he wasn’t out here last night during the full moon, Stiles, you know that doesn’t look good-”

“No! No, dad,” He interrupted the Sheriff before he managed to finish, shaking his head with an exasperated sigh. “Stop, come on, you know Issac. He’s under control, he just needed to run or… something. Sometimes they do that, energy and free wolf spirit and whatever.” An eyebrow lifted in an unintentional mirror of his father, his hands rising to wiggle his fingers in the air. “Scott was with him, they barely ever go out alone anymore during the full moon, come on. He just dropped his phone, he didn’t do this.” He felt obligated to say the last part although he felt like his father and he already had a mutual understanding about that. This wasn’t done by a werewolf. Stiles hadn’t seen anything like it.

Apparently he was right, because the Sheriff didn’t seem to need much convincing. He gave his son a small smile, one that was probably meant to be comforting but came off as a little patronizing to him. “Alright.” He looked down long enough to jot something down in the small notepad he held, pinching the page between two fingers and dragging it upward to tuck it in the back and start a new one. “And when you found her-”

“I called you.” He could hear his own impatience. “I called you as soon as I found her, it’s not like I’ve been out here taking pictures of dead girls, alright? I know, I’m supposed to call you whenever I see something, I think a body counts as-”

“Stiles,” his father stated firmly this time, almost warningly. It quickly diffused Stiles’ combative nature and left him looking slightly remorseful.

His genuine apology of “sorry dad,” seemed to relax the Sheriff as well. A few beats passed between them. “I just- I’ve never seen anything like that before, you know?” His fingers began to fidget against the inside of his knee again, his foot bouncing at a breakneck pace to shake his leg. “Who could do something like that to somebody? I’m kinda freaked out.” He looked over his father’s shoulder to stare at the paramedics loading the body into the back of the ambulance. Or whatever was left of it. He hadn’t noticed that he was biting the nails of his free hand until the Sheriff touched his shoulder.

“It’s alright son. I want you to go home, get some sleep-” he eyed Stiles disapprovingly when the boy scoffed. “I’m serious. You’ve seen enough for tonight, I want you to go home and rest, alright? We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.” Although Stiles hadn’t said anything there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them, because the Sheriff had placed a reassuring hand on Stiles’ shoulder before standing and turning to leave. A hand darted out to grasp at the back of his jacket before he had enough time to put his notepad away, Stiles staring up at him with big eyes and nervous ticks when the Sheriff turned back around.

“Just… be careful, alright?” he sounded hesitant to even suggest it, knowing that his father was always careful, but he had to say it. He couldn’t go home without saying it. He saw the Sheriff’s eyes soften in the dull glow of sunlight that managed to creep through the thick canopy above them.

“You too.”

Stiles gave a jerky nod, fingertips still pressed to his mouth and leg still rattling away. He calmed when the Sheriff turned away again, his lips parting to release a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding and his body falling still, hands dropping to his knees. He didn’t want to go home. What was he going to do there, sit in his room and pretend that he _didn’t_ just find a body in the middle of the woods? Because he couldn’t do that, no one could expect him to do that. Alright, well maybe some people could expect him to do that, but not in this case. In the past, Stiles had found bodies with Scott or Lydia, and it was always sad. There was always some form of loss felt for the stranger (they were lucky if it was a stranger), a tug of irrational guilt that he couldn’t help in time. But this was different.

It was only a child.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old, and Stiles wondered what she looked like. Her hair was long and blond under the matted cake of congealed blood, but that was all he could tell. Her face was gone, her arms were gone- well, no, that wasn’t quite accurate. They weren’t gone, only the skin was, and Stiles felt another wave of nausea hit him as he climbed into his Jeep. She was flayed and skinned like an animal, and no werewolf, not even Peter, had ever done anything so gruesome as that. There was no way he was going to be able to go home without seeing her remains every time he closed his eyes, and he wasn’t looking forward to tossing and turning in bed to the vision of a dead and skinless little girl. He realized that he had already made up his mind of where he would go when he turned his Jeep in the opposite direction of his house. 


	2. Chapter 2

His Jeep rumbled to a halt as he pulled it up the the curb that ended Scott’s lawn. After throwing the gearshift up into park Stiles sat for a while in the silence of his own vehicle, keys hanging limply in his hand as he leaned back into the padded seating with an exhausted sigh. Why was he the one who had the find the body? Wasn’t that Lydia’s job now? Finding bodies and screaming about it? Or Scott could have gotten around to it at some point, mister ‘oh hey I’m the Alpha oh hey I know what to do’. No, it had to be Stiles, and although a part of him was bitter and seriously regretting the fact that he even agreed to go and find that stupid phone, the other part of him was grateful. Lydia wouldn’t have been able to handle seeing a skinless corpse right now, and he highly doubted that Isaac would be able to stomach it either. Scott maybe, but he had enough on his plate, and what was Stiles’ excuse? Maybe that’s my role, he thought to himself bitterly, long fingers wrapping around his steering wheel. _The Alpha, the werewolves, the kitsune, the banshee, and the guy who finds dead bodies in the woods when everyone else is busy. Sounds about right._

Stiles rolled his eyes at himself. “Suck it up.” He spoke aloud instead, hitting his steering wheel softly with an open palm. “Get over yourself Stiles, Christ.” Now wasn’t the time to sit and wallow in his own pity about being Robin in a group of Batmen, he had more important things going on right now. Like the fact that there was a dead little girl in the middle of the freaking woods, for one, and no one knew why. He shook his head quickly as if physically trying to toss the image of her out of his ear and he pushed the door open, stepping down into the street before turning to head up Scott’s driveway. There was no point in knocking since Melissa’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and Scott certainly didn’t care of he just showed up unannounced. He unlocked the door with his key and closed it behind him, his hand slipping into his pocket as he approached the stairwell.

Stiles saw Scott’s door open at the end of the hall and pulled out a dirty but obviously very Samsung phone from his pocket. “Hey, guys?” He called out as he approached the room, “I got Isaac’s phone, I gotta tell you about somethi-” his words halted with his steps when he finally filled the doorway, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “What are you doing here?” He asked Derek who was standing in the middle of the room with Scott, his arms folded. By the look on his face somebody shot him in the ass or he was having a good day. It was hard to tell. “Did I miss the slumber party invitation? I thought Isaac was here studying tonight.”

“Hey Stiles,” Scott responded instead, and Derek did his best to look completely disinterested in everything that was going on. He was doing a good job. “Isaac was getting… frustrated…” the hesitant way Scott said it made Stiles wonder just how many text books the beta ripped apart. “He went to Lydia’s for help, I called Derek for some advice.”

“About Isaac’s temper?” Stiles asked, looking at Derek now who was nodding. Stiles nodded back to him and frowned, his arms folding with the phone still clenched in his hand. “Yeah, he’s been pretty bad since what happened.” Isaac’s temper began to flare up after Allison had died, and neither he nor Scott really knew what to do about it. He hated to admit it, but talking to Derek was probably a good idea considering how many Beta’s he had experience with, Isaac being one of them.

“It’s to be expected.” The eldest in the room spoke for the first time, his hands moving to slip into his pockets for a less defensive stance. “He’s going through some emotional stuff right now, everything that he’s feeling is just amplified, it’s a lot to control. It was a good idea to bring him out running last night, keep an eye on him.” Derek glanced at Scott with an approving tilt to his head. “The more you try to cage him up the more he’s going to feel like he has no control, that’s what you want to avoid.”

“I’m just trying to keep his mind off of it.” Scott sighed, eyes filled with concern. “Keep him distracted, but it only works so far. Speaking of last night, were you able to find his phone?” Scott had abruptly switched the attention back to Stiles who only shrugged.

“Yeah, found it no problem. Actually,” he corrected himself with a drawl, “it was a problem, it was a huge problem and you owe me. I’m serious, Scott.” He reached out to hand the phone to a very confused looking Alpha. “You remember the time that you wet your pants in second grade and I gave you my hoodie to wrap around your waist until your mom came? You owe me bigger than that, this is like, two of those. At least two of those.” He could have sworn he saw Derek’s eyebrow quirk in amusement out of the corner of his eye but he ignored it, staring directly at his best friend.

“What are you talking about?” Scott was wearing a perplexed frown, fingers closing around the phone to take it from Stiles. “What happened when you went to find it-” he had barely finished his sentence when the phone in his hand, Isaac’s phone, began to vibrate and flash with a picture of Lydia on the screen.

“Why is she calling Isaac’s phone, I thought you said he was with her.” Stiles shook his head and looked up at Scott who seemed, if possible, even more lost than he had moments before.

“He is! At least, he said he was.”

Stiles felt his heart jump into his throat. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he could only hope that Lydia didn’t see what he had seen less than an hour before. She reacted poorly when it came to finding the dead, and Stiles suspected that she felt a sort of connection with them due to whatever Mystic Theresa thing she had going on. But they had never dealt with one like this before. Not so young, and not so brutal.“Then he would have told her that he lost his phone, why is she calling- hey!” Stiles startled at the unexpected swipe of a hand between them as Derek grabbed the phone from Scott, looking impatient again. The shot in the ass look. He swiped his finger across the screen to answer Lydia’s call and tapped the speaker option, bringing the phone closer to his mouth.

“Lydia, it’s Derek.” He glanced over at the two boys in the room. “I’m here with Scott and Stiles.”

“Stiles?” Her voice was all off. She sounded dazed and frantic at the same time, the urgency she used to say his name only faltered by the hint of a slur, as if she had just awoken from sleep.

Stiles frowned and looked at Derek who had reached out to hand him the phone with a similar expression on his face. Something is wrong. “Lydia?” He took the phone from Derek, moving it closer to his own mouth. “What’s going on, what’s wrong? Are you and Isaac alright?”

“We’re fine, Isaac is here with me. Stiles-” She still sounded dreary.

“Where are you?”

“We’re at my house, shut up for a second.” Familiarity crept back as she snapped heatedly. “Stiles, what did you find?”

He could feel the other two in the room suddenly look at him directly and his eyes flickered between the two werewolves. He swallowed hard and he could feel his heart sinking slowly, filling him with anxiety. “…Lydia,” he forced waveringly, his attention falling back down to the phone in his hand. He didn’t want to tell her that what she had seen was real. He knew that she was already sure, that calling him was mere confirmation, and yet he didn’t want to have to tell her out loud. “I feel like we should all be together when we talk about-”

“Stiles.” She was definitely sounding more like herself now, dangerous. She knew he was stalling, and he knew that he couldn’t do it for much longer. “What did you find?”

His tongue darted out nervously to wet his lips and he breathed in deeply, lashes fluttering shut as if it would make saying it easier. He opened his mouth to speak but the words were heavy, weighing down on him and refusing to pass his mouth.

“Stiles!” She demanded.

“A body.” He whispered it begrudgingly, knowing that he needed to tell her that whatever she saw had already happened. He winced when Scott intervened.

“You found a body?” He asked incredulously, although Stiles didn’t understand why. It wasn’t as if they weren’t finding bodies all the time around this place. He could have sworn he heard Isaac mutter a ‘ooh damn’ behind Lydia on the phone. “You found her looking for Isaac’s phone? We were just there last night!” Scott was saying everything that Stiles already knew, but he allowed him to continue anyway, unable to find the energy to stop him. “There was nothing there, it had to have happened-”

“Stiles?” Lydia again, who apparently didn’t lack the drive to ignore Scott until he stopped speaking.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure if he was letting her know that he was still there or if he was answering the question that he knew was going to follow.

“Her skin…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” She sounded tired again, her voice slowed and saddened. Stiles couldn’t think of anything to say other than the overwhelming urge to apologize, although he didn’t know what he was apologizing for. No one said anything, and Stiles thought that maybe they all sensed that there was something terribly wrong even though Lydia and Stiles hadn’t spoken specific details aloud. “She was so young.”

Lydia had said it in such a feather of a voice that Stiles had almost missed the comment, and he suspected that it was more to herself than it was for him. Still he nodded, knowing that she couldn’t see it, and managed to repeat quietly, “yeah.”

That was the end. She hung up without saying goodbye and the silence in Scott’s room was near deafening, ringing in Stiles’ ears like white noise. He moved slowly to hold the phone out to Scott, feeling his friend remove it from his hand. The sound of it being placed on the dresser seemed booming, and Stiles almost groaned before standing straight and running his hands down his face. Lydia had seen it anyway, the body with all of the awful details. The little girl who didn’t have a chance. _So long for being the guy who finds dead bodies in the woods when everyone else is busy._ He had been so wrapped up in trying to clear his head of the image that had resurfaced he hadn’t realized that Derek had shifted closer, a large hand resting gently on Stilinski’s shoulder. Stiles moved his hands from his face just enough to look, turning and glancing up.

“Do you want to sit down?” It was an odd request, either because it was coming from Derek or because he sounded almost apologetic for asking. Stiles knew why though, he knew that he would have to talk about this with both of them now. Time was valuable, but a little selfish part of him wished he had just gone home. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is for Katie <3
> 
> Also, I messed up the posting order! I caught it before too much damage could be done, but to make it up to you guys I'm posting an extra chapter ;)

“So her chest was like,” Scott gestured to his own torso, features twisted in a mixture of disgust and morbid curiosity, “open? I mean, like, her ribcage-”

“Yeah, Scott, alright?” Stiles snapped at his friend, still sitting beside Derek on the bed. “Her ribcage was pulled open, I could see everything inside, all of the little… ugh!” His nose wrinkles as he waved his hands. “All of the little gross details, it was all there.”

“And nothing was taken.” Derek piped in now, repeating Stiles’ previous comment about how none of this looked like a ritual or a sacrifice. He looked confused, just as confused as Stiles was about everything. “That doesn’t make sense, why take the skin but nothing else?”

“You’ve never heard anything like this?” Scott’s attention turned to Derek, moving across the room to sit in the large chair beside his bed. Stiles wasn’t looking but he could feel Derek shaking his head beside him.

“No, nothing. Other organs are used for rituals or food, the skin usually just gets in the way-”

“Okay, gross!” Stiles interrupted Hale with a flail of the hands and a shake of the head, looking more than a little uncomfortable at the nonchalance in Derek’s voice. Derek merely shrugged, completely indifferent to the uneasiness of the boy beside him.

“I’m just saying, it seems like a waste for something to kill kids and only take skin unless it’s a ritual that I’ve never heard of-”

“Or…” Scott was so quiet Stiles almost didn’t hear him, but both boys on the bed looked over to study the Alpha contemplate in his chair.

Well, Derek was looking at Scott, Stiles was a little preoccupied with studying the back of Derek’s neck and the way it sloped into his broad shoulders. Was that weird? That wasn’t weird, it was just him being observant. Observing that Derek had inappropriately perfect measurements, and that he was starting to need a hair cut. And that he smelled nice. What was that? Did werewolves wear Calvin Klein-

“Or what?” Stiles jumped when Derek prompted Scott so abruptly, his eyes flickering up to the back of Derek’s head before quickly looking back at his friend sitting in the corner. No one seemed to have noticed his staring, but he did his best to concentrate on Scott just to play it safe.

“Or it wasn’t for a ritual at all.” McCall threw up his hands with the shadow of a frown on his face before resting them on his knees. “Maybe this isn’t even supernatural. I mean, maybe this really is just a crazy guy going around doing… that.” Even Scott seemed to have trouble saying it aloud, and Stiles hoped it stayed that way. He really didn’t want the phrase ‘skinning a small child’ to become a regular in their vocabulary.

“No way!” Stiles was the first to disagree, his leg starting to shake. “What kind of human being could do that? There’s no way some- it’s gotta be some kind of monster or something, right?” He waited a few ticks for Scott to agree with him, and when he didn’t his attention turned up to Derek beside him. The wolf just shook his head with a small frown.

“Not all monsters are supernatural, Stiles. Maybe Scott is right.” It sounded like he was reluctant to admit the possibility aloud. “Maybe this is just some sicko running around Beacon Hills.”

Stiles blinked when they both fell silent, his mouth agape as he searched between the two of them for another option. He scoffed in disbelief when none came. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Scott looked up to meet his gaze and the grimace on his face mirrored exactly what Stiles felt. Of course it was possible that a person did this, but Stiles didn’t want to believe that was true. He didn’t even want to consider the fact that there were people out there who would do something so grotesque despite how naive he knew that was. Derek was right, people could be monsters, but here? In Beacon Hills? They had enough trouble dealing with real monsters, and the idea that a regular run of the mill murderous psychopath was making rounds was somehow even more disturbing. The blanket of silence that covered the other two soon enveloped Stiles as well, dragging them deep into contemplation.

“So what do we do about it?” Stiles finally inquired aloud. Neither of them answered immediately but Scott shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“Maybe nothing.” He suggested, following the statement up quickly with “hear me out” when he saw the look on Stiles’ face. “Look, this could just be a regular guy, right? I mean- you know what I mean, not regular but, just a dude! A human being, isn’t that kind of like, I dunno…” He glanced over at Derek, maybe for back up or maybe just to make sure he didn’t think that Scott was crazy. “Isn’t that what your dad does? Find the bad guys?” He shrugged lamely and looked as if he was preparing for Stiles to disagree. And he did.

“Dude, someone cut up a little kid! Like, literally took her skin! You’re telling me we shouldn’t do anything about that?”

“Scott is right, Stiles.” Derek’s piercing gaze moved to look beside him and Stiles fell silent, only partially out of intimidation. “This is more your dad’s speed than ours, this might not be our fight.”

Stiles’ mouth was open again, brows knit together in bewilderment. “Are you serious right now? Derek, this guy-”

“Is dangerous, yes.” Derek cut in, his deep voice firm. “And I know you worry about your dad but this is his job. It’s what he signed up for, we’re here to help him when it comes to things that he can’t fight but this is what he was elected to do. Scott is right, we should probably stay out of this one.”

Stiles threw his hands up incredulously and bolted to his feet, the dramatic expression causing Scott to frown and Derek to roll his eyes. “Guys, are you not listening? Somebody killed a little girl! They took her skin, man, who cares if it’s not a werewolf or something, somebody has to do something!”

“You’re right, and that’s what your dad is doing.” Derek bantered back, allowing Scott to fall to the wayside. He looked uncomfortable anyway, caught in between wanting to agree with Stiles but believing Derek. “We’re not a police force, Stiles, Beacon Hills has one of those already and this is their job. What are you so upset about, you can actually concentrate on your own responsibilities instead of running head first into something that could get you killed!”

“No.” Stiles disagreed and grabbed his jacket in a way that announced he was dismissing the conversation. “I can’t just sit here and let my dad handle this on his own, alright? They need help, if you won’t help me I’ll do it myself.” Despite the less than polite choice in words he looked at Scott benignly, conveying no ill will. If they didn’t want to help him that was fine, but they couldn’t sit here and convince him to sit on his hands. “I’ll see you guys later. Let me know how it goes with Isaac.”

Stiles couldn’t define the emotion that he felt when he climbed into his Jeep to drive to the station, but the closest he could come to it was guilt. Scott and Derek made a concise point, and if he was anybody else Stiles probably would have agreed with them. But whoever could do that to a body, no matter how small, had a lot of strength or time on their hands. The idea of his father running around looking for someone so heinous made his blood run cold with fear, and the faster he could help the Sheriff find out who was behind dumping the corpse, the faster he could put his mind at ease.

He was welcomed with the same eye-roll he was always given at the front desk before stepping into the back, the sound of ringing phones and rustling papers a familiar one as he weaved his way through the desks to the open door of his father’s office. He caught sight of the Sheriff with his back turned and lifted his chin to call out before noticing another body in the room, someone in a pencil skirt. Is that the FBI? I swear to god if they found another body I’ll drag Derek into the woods by his ear, I don’t even care. Even his own mental imagery of that situation made it clear that it probably wouldn’t end well for him, and he decided that if that was the case he would probably ask Derek politely first before trying to manhandle someone who could quite literally eat him.

He had considered knocking on the door to announce his presence, he really did, but ended up with his back pressed against the wall beside the open doorway to his father’s office. His neck craned as much as he could allow it, trying to hear the conversation inside.

“Listen, forgive me if this is out of line,” Stiles could here a familiar tone of irritation in the Sheriff’s voice, “but I thought that we had already gone over this months ago. Twice! In fact. Both times you tried to take my badge and gun away and both times you decided that it was the wrong thing to do, so what’s the reason this time?”

Stiles felt his heart jump in his throat, eyes bulging as his brain kicked into high gear. Why were they talking about his father’s badge? He tried to crane closer to listen and was completely engrossed in his efforts to stay as silent as possible, his eyes narrowing as he strained to hear.

The other person in the room, a woman, was responding in an even and very no-nonsense tone. “I understand that, Sheriff Stilinski. As I remember, the first time that we had to consider taking your-”

The blaring sound of a phone ringing cut through Stiles’ head so loudly it made him jump and grit his teeth, swearing quietly to himself. When it rang again his head swung around to glare at the perpetrator, the desk directly across from his father’s door. The jockey there was busy filling out his paperwork, so Stiles leaned forward a little to whisper to him.

“Hey.” He frowned when the Jockey didn’t look over, and Stiles glanced over his shoulder to make sure his father still didn’t see him before turning back and whispering more aggressively. “Hey!” The low level officer finally looked his way, seemingly dazed as if just realizing Stiles was standing six feet from his desk. The younger boy threw his hand at the ringing phone, irritation plain on his face. “You gonna answer your phone, buddy?” He gestured more pointedly this time and the jockey seemed to hesitate as he reached for the receiver like confused as to why he was listening to a teenager tell him how to do his job. Stiles rolled his eyes when the ringing finally stopped and he leaned back against the wall, trying to listen in again.

“-know why my efficiency was called into question in the past, are you here to remind me? Because like I said, I’m fully aware and if you haven’t noticed I’m in the middle of trying to find the person who dumped a body in the middle of the woods.” Stiles pulled back when he heard his father shifting behind his desk.

“A body that your son found, is that right?”

Stiles felt his heart freeze when he was mentioned, and he could hear that his father’s footsteps had halted as well. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” The Sheriff questioned directly, and Stiles could just imagine his dad’s hands planting themselves on his waist with a ‘I dare you to say that again’ expression.

“Forgive me, Mister Stilinski-”

“Sheriff.”

“Of course. Sheriff. But from my files and the files of city council, is it or is it not true that your son has been at the discovery site of-” Stiles heard a rustle of papers, “nineteen bodies, this most recent one being the twentieth?”

Stiles blinked and, despite himself, tilted his head with an impressed mouth twitch.

“Woah woah woah.” His dad almost sounded amused. “Are you even suggesting that my son had anything to do with any of those murders? Because you know how ridiculous that sounds-”

“Several of the bodies that your son has found are still results of unsolved cases, Sheriff. I’m not suggesting that he had anything to do with them-”

“Good,” the Sheriff’s aggressive tone was creeping back, “because you know that accusation probably wouldn’t work out very well.”

“But,” the woman _(council representative?)_ pressed on, “it has raised some suspicion, as you can understand. It isn’t comforting that the Sheriff’s own son is the one finding bodies, and we’re not even taking into consideration of how much that number increases if we include the victims found by those associated with your son as well.”

Stiles’ heart hammered on the inside of his ribcage and he had to make the conscious effort to keep himself still as his fingers curled against the wall behind him. He tried to think away the guilt that was creeping into his stomach; it wasn’t his fault he found bodies. It certainly wasn’t his fault that Lydia was a banshee, but he knew that he, nor his father, could logically explain it away. On the surface from the perspective of others, Stiles found a lot of dead bodies. In the perspective of Stiles, he had put his father’s career at risk. Again.

He strained to hear again, afraid that he had missed something while lost in thought, but the Sheriff was still silent. “I don’t know what you think you’re suggesting here.” His dad sounded defeated, and Stiles had to close his eyes.

“We aren’t suggesting anything, Sheriff,” the woman continued in a smug way that made Stiles want to hit her over the head. Or at least riddle the floor of her car with thumb tacks. “We have no evidence of your son’s involvement with any of the unsolved murders, but you know as well as I that this can’t be overlooked. They just sent me as a courtesy, you’ll be getting a formal request for your appearance before the council within the week. If you want to explain yourself, you can do so to them.” The sound of papers moving came from the room again, followed by a small ‘click’ that Stiles assumed was some sort of bag or briefcase.

“I don’t have to explain anything.” The Sheriff raised his voice in displeasure.

No, she’s coming. Stiles quickly realized that his father wasn’t yelling but was instead calling after the woman when he heard the tapping of heels on the wooden floor. He frantically looked around before leaping next to the jockey before him, speaking quickly. “Hey, whats this, do you need this? Let me just take a look.” He grabbed the nearest piece of literature, a pamphlet on how to say no to cocaine, and opened it to shove his face inside with his back turned to the Sheriff’s door.

“I’d probably work on that philosophy before you answer to the council, Sheriff Stilinski.” The woman pipped cheerfully as she walked out, not noticing Stiles as she passed behind him and made her way to the front door. He stood straight with the pamphlet still in is hand to catch a glimpse at her, but didn’t recognize her face as she left the precinct.

“Stiles?”

He jumped in surprise and turned quickly to see his father staring down at him with one eyebrow quirked, the Sheriff’s hands moving to his waist. He was expecting an explanation. He didn’t have to say as much, because Stiles could feel it, he could feel judgment radiating off of the man.

“Didn’t I tell you to go home and get some rest? What are you doing here?” The Sheriff prompted anyway because Stiles was standing there with a flapping mouth that refused to release a magical and completely justified explanation of why he was hiding outside of his father’s office.

“Uh, yeah, you did. But I uh, I thought I would… you know. Stop by.” He finished lamely, shrinking a little under the stare that bore into him. He lifted the pamphlet in his hand. “Dad, I have something to confess.”

“You are not on drugs.” He could see the immense effort that the Sheriff went through to keep his eye-roll at a minimum.

“I know, I know, it’s hard to believe,” Stiles began with a heavy sigh, “smart kid like me, bright future, getting mixed up with thugs and criminals-”

“Stiles, don’t make me cuff you.”

“I came here to see if you needed any help with the body, alright?” He explained himself quietly but the Sheriff still looked around and took his son’s arm to drag him into his office and close the door.

“You know for a fact that I can’t let you help with an ongoing investigation, Stiles-”

“Dad, what are you gonna do?” Stiles interrupted his father from a noble effort to speak normally, as if he hadn’t just learned that his position was at risk yet again. The Sheriff’s face sunk a little as he resigned that his son had heard the previous conversation, running a hand down his face in exhaustion.

“I don’t know.” He finally confessed. “Nineteen cases, twenty now, Stiles. And they only have one thing in common-”

“A body?”

“You, son.” He corrected softly, and Stiles almost wished that he would just yell about it. Stiles wanted to yell about it. “Don’t worry about it Stiles, they can’t fire me because my son and his friends have a knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Stiles wasn’t so sure of that, and by the look on the Sheriff’s face his father wasn’t either. His guilt worsened.

“I can stop calling things in if I find them, it might make it seem-”

“No. No, you don’t do that.” His dad shook his head. “You’re not doing anything wrong Stiles, I don’t want you to feel like you need to change-”

“Dad, they’re threatening to take your badge away, okay?” He paused for a moment. “Again! I can’t keep calling things in if it’s going to make you lose your job!” He wasn’t trying to be confrontational, but he had assumed that his father would at least argue back. Instead the man looked just as defeated as he had sounded earlier, shaking his head to show his displeasure with the idea but moving from the subject, already tired of it.

“I can’t have you helping me with this investigation. Especially not right now.”

Stiles’ throat moved with a hard gulp, his head turning to divert his eyes. “I told Scott and Derek about it,” he admitted, tapping his fingers against his outer thigh. The Sheriff gave him a glance that obviously expected more, but Stiles could only shake his head. “They don’t think it’s supernatural. Derek hasn’t heard of any ritual or anything like that with… you know, human skin. They think it’s just some freak running around. A regular freak.”

His dad nodded. “Leave this to me then and I want you to concentrate on school, alright? We’re going to get through this, I don’t want you worrying. You hear me Stiles? …Stiles-”

“Yeah, I hear you.” He spoke grudgingly and was unable to look the man in the eyes, instead turning and reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you at home, Dad.”

“See you at home.”

He took it as a dismissal and walked out, keeping his head down as he made his way back to the parking lot. As soon as he landed in the seat of his Jeep he closed his eyes and brought both hands to press against his forehead, releasing pent up frustration in an angry groan. He’d like to believe his father when he said that the council couldn’t fire him on speculation alone, but they could certainly make the damning information public and that would have been just as bad. His father was elected for Sheriff, after all, and if the public thought that his son was some body-discovering wonderboy, they could also think that he was a body-leaving psychopath.

He didn’t want to dwell. Turning the key in the ignition he headed home, wanting only for the day to end.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted the wrong chapter tonight. Everything is fixed, but I decided to post two chapters instead of one just to make it up to you guys, so here it is!

Stiles had decided early the next morning that Monday would be officially renamed ‘fuckthisday’ for the rest of his life. Because seriously, fuck this day and fuck anyone and everyone who disagreed with him. He had barely managed to sleep the night before, having tossed and turned in blankets of guilt for the new obstacle in his fathers life that threatened both of their wellbeing. The only thought that managed to put him to ease was a promise he had made to himself, one that he knew he had to dedicate his entire being to if he wanted to make it work.

Stiles had to stop finding bodies.

He had to go out of his way to avoid anywhere that a body could be possibly dumped, whether that be the woods or any abandoned building. He had to admit that the school was impossible to avoid, but the lacrosse field wasn’t. At least, not after hours. Nope, no more bodies for Stiles Stilinksi. He swore it.

He pushed the front doors of the school open with aching arms, his eyes heavy and begging for sleep. He didn’t remember his first four classes, mostly because he was snoring through all of them, face flat against his desk until he woke with a start at the bell. By the time he made it through half of his day he felt at least partially rested, and he was able to pay attention in his final courses without drifting off. It took him a while to tell Scott what he had discovered about his father’s job, and although he was grateful for his best friend’s insistence to help, he had to explain to him at least three times that nothing could be done. Giant lizard jocks and Japanese spirit possessions they could handle, but when it came to small town laws and regulations, their hands were tied. Scott tried to talk him into stopping by after school to study and play a few rounds of Mortal Combat, but he turned it down; he had other plans.

The final bell rang and Stiles left class, twisting through the frenzy in the hallway to get to his locker. His moves were mechanical; books in, bag out, books in bag, close the locker, turn to get to the parking lot-

“SONOFa bitc- Isaac!” He snapped angrily, his temper bubbling when Lahey raised an eyebrow and stared at him blankly with those obnoxiously and unacceptably large eyes.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yeah? Well try to not hide places, announce your presence, that is like STEP ONE in the ‘HOW TO NOT SCARE SOMEBODY’ handbook, alright?” He tossed Isaac a glare, completely unaffected by the way his curly hair managed to just reach his improperly long lashes. The beta launched himself upward from where he had been leaning against the lockers, following Stiles to the parking lot.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he explained casually, but a twitch of tension in his jaw seemed suspicious. Stiles regularly wondered who the fuck this guy thought he was with a jaw like that.

“Since when do you want to see how I’m doing?” He sounded more accusatory than curious, although he honestly hadn’t meant to. The connection he had with Isaac was through Scott and Derek, it had never went beyond that. Stiles knew that Isaac probably wasn’t going to kill him; that was as far as they had gotten.

“Alright, I don’t.” Isaac shrugged again, “But Derek wanted me to see how you were so I thought I’d do him a favor.”

Stiles stopped walking, his head tilted at an angle and his eyes narrowing in confusion as he shifted his backpack up on his shoulder. “Derek sent you to check on me?” He repeated aloud, his words dripping in doubt. He wasn’t sure if Isaac was supposed to keep that part a secret, but he was either really bad at doing so or he didn’t care. “Why would he do that?”

“Probably because he’s worried about you, I thought you were one of the smart ones.” There was a bite in his reply but Isaac was still smiling, and for some reason he looked amused at Stiles’ bewilderment.

“Ah ha ha. Ha. I forgot you were one of the funny ones.” He drawled back, eyes narrowing to add an extra bite in his sarcasm as he moved past Isaac to grab the handle of his Jeep. The werewolf beat him to it, falling sideways to lean against the driver’s side door gracefully and blocking Stiles’ from opening it up.

“I’m serious, he just wants to make sure that you’re alright. He said that you seemed pretty upset yesterday.”

“Is this what you guys do?” Stiles grumbled, “sit around and talk about how upset I am? I’m touched. Really, I am. And you know what else?” He reached past Isaac, who smelled like something ridiculously stupid like heaven or something, and grabbed the handle. “I’m fine.” He pulled, knowing that he wouldn’t have been able to open his car door if Isaac decided he didn’t want to let him, but the other boy moved out of his way. “Thank you.” He climbed in, tossing his bag into the back before looking back at Isaac with a reluctant frown. “Listen,” he began slowly, “I appreciate you checking up on me but I don’t need it alright? I can handle this on my own.”

Isaac didn’t seem as convinced. “Handle what on your own?”

“This.” Stiles repeated, knowing very well how much of a cop out that reply was before closing the door and turning his key in the ignition. He didn’t start feeling bad about shutting down when Isaac reached out until he was halfway to the hospital, and he spent the rest of the drive justifying it in his own head. He barely knew Isaac, personally anyway, and Derek had never showed a substantial amount of concern for Stiles’ emotional well being. Physical, maybe, he always had a habit of dragging Stiles out of the way when something deadly was flying through the air, whether it be knives or claws. When it came to emotional support, however, Derek wasn’t exactly Dr. Phil and Stiles couldn’t help but suspect that there was an ulterior motive when it came to the older werewolf checking on him. Maybe he thought that if Stiles was moody, Scott would be too, and that would effect some crazy voodoo werewolf connection they had. Seemed legitimate enough.

He only stopped thinking about Derek when he crossed the threshold of the hospital, asking the woman at the front desk if Melissa McCall was in that day. The lady must have recognized him because she paged Melissa without an issue, probably afraid that the lights would go out and a few bodies would show up if she didn’t heed the word of one of the kids who were always around when shit like that happened. Or maybe she was just nice. That could always be possibility. Stiles sat in a waiting chair patiently until he saw Melissa making her way over to him in a hurried walk, her face sunken with worry.

“Stiles? What is it?” He blinked when she sounded so concerned, “is it Scott? Is Scott hurt?”

“What? No, no I’m here to see you.” He scoffed, as if insulted. “What, I can’t just visit my best friend’s mom? Who I’ve known for like, ever? I can’t just-”

“Stiles.” Melissa cut him off with a warning glare and Stiles shut up immediately. Melissa wasn’t like his dad. Melissa would hit him.

“Sorry. But really, Scott’s fine, I was here to ask you a question. Well,” he looked at the ceiling with a sigh. “A favor, actually.” He paused for only a moment, making sure that he had her attention before he continued. “Look, I was thinking about starting some volunteer work somewhere. My dad is getting some heat at his job because of me, because I’m always-”

“Finding bodies.” She said it with such assurance and a nod that Stiles would have thought his father told her about it if his father went around talking about his work issues. He blinked.

“…Yeah…” He admitted slowly with an odd stare. “So I was wondering if you had any work around here that I could do. Just something that doesn’t have to do with bodies, I should probably stay away from the bodies-”

“I’m not putting you anywhere around the bodies, Stiles.”

“I know that! That’s what I’m asking you not to do! I mean, not put me around bodies, not…not put me around bodies, not the double negati-”

“Stiles.” He must have been rambling again because Melissa was giving him the look she usually gave before she kindly told him to shut up. “Look.” She softened and set her hands on either of his shoulders, giving him a comforting smile that he suspected only a mom could really give. “Come back Wednesday, I’ll try to have everything together by then.”

Stiles let out an exhale of relief and closed his eyes. “Thanks.” He tried to express genuine gratitude. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem. I think it’s a good thing that you’re doing, and for a good cause. But Stiles,” he had opened his eyes just in time to catch the warning gaze she bore into him, “stop blaming yourself for your dad’s work. You know he doesn’t want you to do that.”

He frowned and shifted from one foot to the other. “That’s easy for you to say, but-”

“Yes, it’s very easy for me to say and I mean it. You all have enough to worry about, you shouldn’t add something like this onto your plate too. Listen, I have to go.” She gave his shoulders a little squeeze of encouragement before releasing him. “But don’t forget, Wednesday. After school, I’ll see you here.” She smiled again and she waited for Stiles to nod to her before turning to say something to the woman at the front desk and leave down the hall.

Stiles snapped his fingers and let his arms swing as he watched her go, glancing around awkwardly and realizing that the woman at the desk was staring his way. “I’m just-” he pointed to the exit behind him. “I’m gonna go- yeah. You have a good day.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and turned, walking out of the double doors to head back to his car. He was preoccupied with digging his keys out that he barely noticed someone leaning against his Jeep until he looked up halfway there, coming to an abrupt stop at the sight of Derek Hale leaning against his hood. Apparently his Jeep was an attractive werewolf magnet today and he really wished someone had warned him.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned, slowly starting to walk again and feeling self conscious under Derek’s intense stare.

“Looking for you.” Despite his intimidating stance (which was really every stance with Derek Hale) he spoke casually, his head cocked to the side as if he was thinking about something pleasant. Stiles felt his heart skip a beat and silently cursed himself, knowing that Derek had possibly heard it as well.

“Why?” Stiles raised both brows. “I told Isaac I was fine.”

“Yeah.” Derek shrugged. “He said you were lying.”

“So?” He finally reached his car, standing a few feet away from Derek and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “What is this all about? You never check on me, alright, this is weird, what’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on, idiot.” Derek said it so carelessly that Stiles almost believed him. “You were just really upset a few nights ago and I’m making sure that everything is alright.”

Stiles wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably and blinking a few times before finally settling on “I’m fine.” He shook his head and shrugged. “Nothing is wrong.”

One of Derek’s brows lifted. “You’re lying again.”

Stiles gave a dramatic roll of his eyes and threw his hands up. “Will you stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“That whole lie detector thing, it’s not fair and I’m not sure if anyone has told you this? But it’s freaky. So stop it.”

Derek gave a sound of exasperation and rolled his head from one shoulder to the other. “Yeah, let me just shut my ears off for you. It doesn’t work like that, moron.” He took a step forward which had startled Stiles into taking a step back. “Why are you fighting me?”

“I’m not fighting you!” He argued with a frown. “It’s just weird, alright, you haven’t exactly been nominated for ‘most cuddly werewolf buddy of the year’.” The look that Derek gave him said that he was already done with Stiles and yet he still hadn’t moved. He usually left by now. Stiles frowned a little before giving a look of defeat. “My dad is having some trouble at work.” He admitted grudgingly. “They’re wondering why his son is always around when a 10-54 is called, it’s starting to make him look bad I guess.”

Derek gave a look that Stiles wasn’t familiar with, but he would have bet money that it almost resembled sympathy. “You keep finding victims, you mean.”

“Yeah.” Stiles shifted uncomfortably again and was unable to look Derek directly in the eye. It was easier to talk to Scott about something like this, when it came to Derek he always felt as if he was being judged in some way whether it was true or not. He waited for Derek to move away from his car but the man continued to stand there and stare at him until it was almost creepy. Well, creepy for Derek, anyway.

“You should come over.” He offered so suddenly that Stiles almost cracked his neck looking up.

“What?”

“Isaac is coming over, we’re probably going to fight a little. I told him that I was going to try to teach him something new but to be honest Scott and I are just working to keep his mind off of Allison. Until he can handle his temper again, anyway.”

Stiles stared at Derek for a good half minute, waiting for him to laugh, smile, or give some signal that he was joking, but he didn’t. The invitation was so strange that Stiles hadn’t even considered saying no. “What am I going to do, sit there and watch you two fight each other?”

Derek shrugged and backed up again to lean against Stiles’ Jeep. “What else would you be doing, sitting at home and watching Space Trek?”

“Oh my god.”

“What-”

“Oh my god- fine.” Stiles was wincing as if he had been stabbed. “Fine, just never say that to me again.”

Derek shrugged, unperturbed by Stiles’ sudden objection to his pop culture reference, and began to walk to the other side of his car. “Come on, you’re driving.”

Stiles began to move to the driver side door, hushing the part of his brain that asked him what the hell he was doing. “How did you get here?”

“I ran.” Derek called over the roof of the car as he waited for Stiles to unlock the door.

Stilinksi grinned. “Oh what, like that hands and feet run? Like your little hand skips-” He stopped abruptly when he caught the sight of Derek glaring at him through the window of the passenger side, his face turning red as he unlocked the doors. “Uh… yeah I can drive, no problem.” 


	5. Chapter 5

The ride was going well, all things considered. Derek wasn’t trying to kill him, and although he had proved to be more trustworthy than that in the past it was still refreshing to know nothing had changed. However, the silence made Stiles uncomfortable and he couldn’t help but try to spark some sort of conversation five minutes in.

“So,” he leaned back in his seat in the effort to look easy-going and nonchalant, but by the way Derek was looking at him he guessed he only managed to look spastic. He licked his lips before adjusting himself in his seat again, both hands on the wheel this time. “How’s it coming with Isaac and everything? He didn’t seem too angry when he was talking to me at school. You sure you guys aren’t just… I dunno, over reacting? It would be understandable if he was a little moody after Allison.”

“It sporadic.” Derek replied flatly as he stared out of the passenger window. “It’s not like he’s triggered by everything but when he does get triggered it’s bad. He’s just got a lot of anger in him.”

“So how are you going to fix it?” Stiles sounded honestly curious, taking his eyes off the road for a second to glance over at Derek beside him before looking back. “I mean, you already taught him control, how often do you have to teach werewolves how to keep their fangs in?”

“Usually you don’t. Not more than once, anyway.” Hale sighed and turned to look out of the windshield with a frown. A frown, Stiles noticed, that looked awfully like a pout. He was always wearing that stupid pout. “But sometimes whatever is holding you down, your anchor, it disappears or something messes with it. Isaac told me once that his anchor was his father.”

Stiles blinked, throwing himself back into his seat with shock in his eyes. “His father? What the hell is he thinking about his dad for, the jackass locked him in a freezer.”

“I know. He said that he wasn’t always bad, that’s all I got out of him.” Derek sounded just as confused about it as Stiles felt.

“So what changed? I mean, Allison dying doesn’t have much to do with his Dad being dead.”

“Maybe his anchor changed and he didn’t realize it.” Derek suggested. By the sound of his voice, it seemed like it was a theory that he had been working on. “His dad was his only family, right? His pack became his new family so maybe it became his new anchor as well. Allison dying probably messed that up for him.”

Stiles stayed silent for a few moments, the gears in his head spinning. “So he just needs to find a new anchor.”

“That’s what I said. It’s easier said than done.”

Stiles let it drop for now, having just pulled into a space at the base of Derek’s building. He intended to ask another question, about how someone could go about finding a brand new anchor without being forced to remember the old one, but Derek was already on the move and heading to his loft on the upper floor. Stiles followed, unable to feel like he wasn’t making a mistake just by being here. He never spent time around Derek without Scott, and in the small instances that he did he always ended up getting hurt or transferring someone (usually Derek) to the hospital or Deaton’s office. He was remembering now how strange it was that Derek even invited him over and showed concern for Stiles’ emotional well-being, and yet here he was following the man into his home. Stiles tried to tell himself that he was just doing something to distract himself and kill time, but he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He wanted to believe that Derek was worried about him; just considering it made his head feel light.

The rattling sound of Derek dragging his door open pulled Stiles from his thoughts and he followed Hale into the sparse area, the lighting warm and helped by the dim light peaking through the large windows on the far wall. Isaac was sitting on a sectional couch, arms stretched across the back, and he turned to look their way when they entered.

“About time.” He dropped his arms down and stood, walking across the vast floor to approach the two of them. “I was starting to think you two ditched me and went to play on your own.”

Stiles blushed at the phrasing, wondering if it was intentional or not, but before he could make an awkward comment in defense Derek had moved on.

“We were at the hospital, it took us a while to get here. Go stand over there, get ready. Stiles,” his head perked when Derek addressed him, “stay out of the way and try to not get killed.”

“You got it!” Stiles snapped his fingers and pointed them both at Derek before walking over to the sectional that Isaac had been sitting on, dropping down on it and crossing his legs under him. If he was being honest with himself he had seen way too many werewolf fights. Spars. Whatever they wanted to call it. But Derek had a point, he wouldn’t be doing anything other than sitting at home anyway, being around other people for a distraction was smart, and the idea of watching the two of them go at each other was a little more appealing than he wanted to admit. He watched Isaac stand at the ready with Derek circling him slowly as if biding his time. He jumped when the older man sprang into action, swinging at Isaac from behind. Stiles started to tap his fingers wildly on his knee, his foot shaking despite being tucked underneath his body as he watched them both spring to life. He wondered why Derek didn’t just talk to Isaac in the effort to help him find his new anchor, but to be fair Derek was never one to talk about problems if he could punch something instead. Isaac had moved fast enough to miss the swing, his face twisting in concentration and then anger when Derek clipped him in his side, and for some reason Stiles thought that was one of the hottest things he had ever fucking seen.

_There’s a special place in hell for people like you. They’re fighting. This isn’t the time to start plotting real life fanfiction in your head you freaking loser._ And yet there he was, sitting on the couch and unable to take his eyes off of them. Every time Isaac seemed to tiptoe the edge of turning Derek would say his name to call him back, but the longer they went on the harder it seemed to be for him. Derek kept telling him to find an anchor and Isaac struggled every time, but Stiles wasn’t able to appreciate the situation for how dangerous it actually was. Derek was there, after all, and a part of him knew that he could control Isaac if he truly had to. The other part of him couldn’t stop staring at the way the collars of their shirts were getting damp in effort and the way their arms tensed and their skin began to shine. _You’re so pathetic, Stilinksi, you’re sitting here sexualizing two friends. Barely friends. You managed to get dragged into a loft with the two people who you can barely get a word out of and all you can do is think about how much better this would be if-_

“You should take off your shirts.”

Stiles didn’t realize that he said it aloud, so wrapped up in his own inner monologue that the words fell out of him like some terrible case of word vomit. He hadn’t noticed Isaac’s face slowly turning or the hardened expression Derek wore, both of which disappeared completely when they looked his way with a matching expression of either confusion or ‘what the fuck did you just say’? Stiles had a feeling it was the latter. His eyes moved between them, heat rising to his face until his cheeks were flushed in a mixture of horror and embarrassment.

“You both look constricted. Is all.” His mind raced for a logical explanation, a cover-up that would completely justify the ridiculously unjustifiable comment he had made. “They’re- I just noticed they’re getting all uh… all wet, and…” his voice trailed off as he threw his hand up, pointing a finger in their general direction. He licked his lips nervously when they continued to stare at him, Derek still looking like he was at an absolute loss and Isaac completely unreadable. “Yeah, you know what? Nevermind, you’re both doin’ great. You just- you keep on doing what you’re doing, I’ll just- you know.” He pinched his thumb and forefinger together before dragging them both across the line of his lips, signaling that he would stay silent, and he waited for them to look away before rolling his eyes at himself and angrily ruffling his own hair with both hands. _Stupid. That was stupid, you’re a fucking idiot, who says that? Who says something like that? This is why you can’t get laid. This right here is why you can’t get any action, because you say shit like ‘you should take off your shirts’. Creeps say that. You’re a damn creep._

He looked back up after convincing himself that enough time had passed for his comment to be brushed aside. He expected them to have at least fallen back into their respective stances and they had. Everything was exactly as it was before Stiles had made his stupid comment; other than the fact that their shirts, both of them, were missing. Stiles was glad to see Isaac throw himself at Derek with a swinging hand, because he was sure if either of them glanced his way he would have seemed near insanity. His jaw hung slack, eyes almost as wide as his mouth as he watched them both move systematically around each other, landing blows but none of them fatal. Their discarded clothing lay forgotten a few yards away, tossed aside carelessly while Stiles wasn’t looking, and he briefly wondered if his excuse sounded better than he thought it did before quickly dismissing the notion. _No… no you sounded like a complete tool._ So what were they doing? Were they mocking him? Or did they see some sort of logic in his suggestion that even Stiles hadn’t taken into consideration? Maybe shirts really were confining in combat… he wouldn’t know. He didn’t do much of it.

He tried to think about their motives in detail, he really did, but it was becoming difficult. The way that Derek moved, all strategy and muscle, was only equaled by the graceful speed that Isaac dished in return. And christ, did they both look good. Really good, and it was then that Stiles remembered he really didn’t watch enough porn, and he really didn’t touch himself enough because if he did he wouldn’t be sitting here objectifying two people who could most certainly kill him. He shifted uncomfortably and gripped at his ankles so that his forearms covered his lap for absolutely no ulterior reason. None at all. It wasn’t until Derek pinned Isaac down on the hard wooden floor, breathing heavily on top of him, that Stiles suddenly stood.

“I have to go.” He spat out quickly, trying his best not to squirm under the sudden stare of Derek and Isaac. “I forgot I have a uh… a project due. Yeah, for chemistry.”

Isaac frowned, still lying under Derek with a heaving chest, and his brow furrowed in confusion. “We had a project in Chemistry?”

Stiles blinked once. “Uh… no.” _Stupid. Stupid idiot. Stupid._ “I-It’s an extra credit. …Just for me. And you know, whoever else asked for it. For extra credit I mean.” He quickly leaned over to grab his jacket. “I gotta go.”

Derek finally spoke, sitting up on his knees between Isaac’s legs and finally releasing him. It wasn’t any better. “I was going to order a pizza soon.” There was something in his expression that Stiles couldn’t pinpoint and it set him on edge.

“That sounds really nice, it really does, but I gotta go. I’ll see you guys later.” He awkwardly shuffled across the vast floor and he would have sworn that the door seemed a lot further away than it usually did. “Later.” He repeated lamely, whispering a little ‘ow’ to himself as he banged his arm on the door frame and left.

Derek watched him go, staring at the large doorway to make sure that Stiles wasn’t coming back before finally turning back to Isaac, who wore a shameless shit-eating grin on his face.

“Does he know that we can smell arousal?” Isaac questioned him, his voice all amusement and mirth. Derek couldn’t help but give a shadow of a smile, offering his hand and helping Isaac to his feet as they both stood.

“Probably. He’s not a stupid kid, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot something like that. He can never keep his head on straight.”

“Obviously.” Isaac sounded no less amused than he had before. “I thought his head was going to explode when we took off our shirts.”

“Which one?” Derek smirked at his own joke. Isaac gave a small chuckle before bending to grab Derek’s shirt, tossing it to him and twisting his own in his hands in the effort to turn it the right way. Derek watched him for a moment with a softening expression and a shirt hanging loosely in his hand. “Hey.” He cocked his head in Isaac’s direction. “You did well. It almost looked like you were going to turn there for a second.”

“I almost did.” The younger man shrugged and was too distracted tugging his shirt on to see the concerned look in Derek’s eyes. “But I mean… come on, Stiles? Staring at us like he was watching a live filming of Bay Watch? That was funny as hell, how can you stay angry after something like that?”


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles’ embarrassment kept him from approaching either Derek or Isaac for the entire week. In fact, it might have been safe to say that he was actively avoiding them, despite the fact that he would never admit it aloud. It was easy with Derek; they rarely ran into each other unless Scott was involved unless you wanted to count the few times Hale approached him unprovoked. Isaac, however, was a different story; they attended school together, and although they only shared a few courses Stiles still had to find a way to avoid Lahey in lacrosse practice. By the time the boys had entered the locker room Stiles was hiding behind Scott, glancing over his bare shoulder and ducking at random intervals whenever he saw a sculpted jaw or a head of curly hair.

Every time Stiles moved Scott moved as well, mistaking his best friend’s avoidance maneuvers as attempts to get his, or someone else’s, attention. Stiles dodged again and Scott looked over his shoulder before rolling his eyes and finally turning to face him. “Dude, what are you _doing_?” His annoyance was lost on Stiles’ ears, wide eyes darting around the locker room at every unexpected movement.

“Nothing man,” he miserably failed at trying to sound dismissive. “Just making sure you’ve got all your gear. You need a shirt? Here, put on your shirt.” Stiles reached blindly into Scott’s locker and groped until he found fabric, pulling and tossing it into the Alpha’s chest. He chewed on the corner of his lip anxiously, ducking down when someone turned a corner; Danny. It was just Danny.

“Stiles, you’re acting weird.” Scott began to pull on his jersey, his observation hanging in the air with the expectancy of an explanation. His head breached the top of the shirt with a disgruntled look and he reached past Stiles to grab his shin guards, a seemingly harmless gesture until Stiles felt the agitation in Scott’s sharp motions. “Can you just- can you get out of my locker, please?”

“Stop being a drama queen alright, I’m not _in_  your locker, I’m just in front of it.”

“Yeah, I know, and I can’t get dressed unless you move. Are you even going to change?”

“Of course I’m going to change.” Stiles finally pulled his attention back to Scott in an attempt to feign normalcy. “I’m just concentrating alright, this is very important just- stop complaining and be a good friend and don’t move.”

Scott stopped moving to face Stiles completely with a crooked downturn to his mouth and a heavy brow, and Stiles could tell that his patience was wearing thin. Scott’s eyes bore into him with suspicion, and Stiles had every intention to come up with a lame lie before he saw movement over Scott’s shoulder. He dodged again, his head ducking down, but this time Scott moved with him and leaned in the opposite direction, revealing Stiles to the room completely. Stilinski moved again in order to gain coverage but Scott was faster, leaning away for a second time and denying Stiles the shield that he was obviously trying to obtain.

“What- wha- stop i- Scott-” He continued his efforts but Scott foiled him every time until he finally stood straight, slapping both of his palms onto the side of his legs and stomping his foot in impatience. “Scott, Stop moving!”

“Why?”

Stiles rolled his eyes in frustration, as if questioning why he was being questioned in the first place. “Because I’m hiding and you’re a really crappy shield if you don’t know how to stand still.”

Scott’s stubborn gaze relented for a moment, curiosity slowly leaking in. “Wait, who are you hiding from? Stiles, what did you do?”

“Scott.” Stiles made it a point to sound insulted, and he only had to partially feign it. “I tell you that I’m hiding and you automatically assume that I did something? Where’s the trust, buddy? After everything-”

“There you are.”

The voice came from Stiles’ right and caught him off guard, making him jump involuntarily and looking to see Isaac Lahey in full gear with a lacrosse stick hanging loosely in his grip. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“Have you?” Stiles chirped a little too quickly, shrinking slightly under the suspicious eyes of both friends. “I’ve been pretty busy, I guess. Working on school, you know, concentrating so I can really apply myself-”

Scott seemed to sense some form of discomfort between the two, reaching into his locker to grab his lacrosse stick.“I’m going out on the field. You should get dressed.” He either didn’t see the look of desperation in Stiles’ eyes or he ignored it, clapping Isaac on the shoulder with a firm hand before pushing past him and following a few other teammates out the back. Stiles swallowed hard as he watched him leave, knowing that every second he could was another second he didn’t have to face Isaac directly. It didn’t last near long enough.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” Isaac prompted him, but waited to continue until Stiles gave in and faced him. Scott was right, he really should get dressed, but the number of boys in the locker room was waning and the more alone he was with Lahey, the less inclined he was to remove his shirt.

“About what?” _He wants to talk about you about last week. About how you ran out of Derek’s place because you couldn’t handle watching him get tackled to the ground. Shirtless. Both shirtless, who’s stupid idea was that? Yours. It was your stupid idea._  Stiles didn’t realize that he was shifting, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt on one hand as his fingers tapped against his outer thigh on the other. He realized what he was doing and tried to stop when Isaac’s eyes flickered down to his hands before looking back at Stiles’ face.

“That body you found.” His voice lowered as he moved closer, and although Stiles knew he was doing so for privacy, it didn’t stop him from backing up until he collided with the lockers behind him.

His nerves were still on edge, anxiety rattling around in him like electricity, but Isaac grounded him for only a moment when he mentioned the murder. He felt a wave of discomfort crawl its way through him; he didn’t like thinking about the body. He still saw it on the nights that he couldn’t sleep, and the emotional attachment it had to his father’s employment made his heart heavy in guilt and panic. But he concentrated, unable to deny the curiosity that Isaac had peaked. “What about it?” His gaze turned leery and his voice was guarded, but it seemed to be enough to make Isaac nod and lean in an inch closer.

“I believe you.” Isaac sounded as if he was trying to be encouraging despite the fact that Stiles had already conceded to leave the police work to the actual police. “I don’t think a person did that, I think it was something else.”

And he waited this long to tell Stiles that? If he had some sort of evidence, some sort of tangible reasoning that could have been handed to the Sheriff in order to help him keep his job, Stiles wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear it yesterday. “Well?” He pushed impatiently, his crippling anxiety momentarily forgotten as he eagerly awaited Isaac to continue. “What do you think it was?”

Isaac shook his head and looked over his shoulder, making sure that they were the only ones in the immediate area before turning and grabbing Stiles’ shirt, tossing it to him. “I don’t know, I don’t know what it was. But the night before when Scott and I were out there I cut off from him. Not long, but long enough to pick up some sort of scent.” Stiles would have pushed on if Isaac didn’t look like he was still thinking, trying to put his words in the correct order to explain his exact experience. “Death. But… I don’t know, moving death, you know? It wasn’t staying in one place at one time. And it smelled sort of like a farm.”

“A farm.” Stiles repeated him aloud with one eyebrow hitched upward, and finally accepting that Isaac wasn’t going to go away he quickly removed his shirt and tugged on his jersey in record time, unwilling to be exposed for long. “There aren’t any farms around here.”

Isaac’s mouth turned down in a mixture of distaste and annoyance. “You think I don’t know that? I know there aren’t any farms around here, that’s why I noticed that it smelled like a farm. You know, the animals and… stuff.”

Stiles finished pulling on his cleats and sighed. “Well what do you-”

“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE,” Coach Finstock’s voice boomed through the locker room as he banged on a locker with an open hand, the sound echoing off tile. “Finish up in here and get your asses on the field. Or don’t, I get paid either way.”

Stiles looked over his shoulder and stood with his helmet in hand before glancing back at Isaac. “Scott and Derek think that it’s just some crazy person running around killing people and the last thing my dad needs is me digging deeper into this, what do you want to do?”

“They don’t have to know.” Isaac suggested it with such finality that Stiles suspected his comment to be the point he was trying to make the entire time. “We can check out the area and if we find something we’ll be able to convince them that something bigger is happening here. We don’t need Scott and Derek to do that.”

Stiles jerked back an inch as if Isaac had just burned him, staring at his teammate with hesitance. Being alone with Isaac in the locker room was one thing, but Derek and Scott weren’t lying when they said he was having issues with control again. It was probably a terrible idea to wander around in the woods with him, even if there was still daylight, but the promise of finding something to hand to his father was too appealing. “I didn’t see anything when I was out there.”

Isaac must have sensed cracks in Stiles’ wall of confidence, because he flashed a charming grin before tapping the side of his nose. “You don’t have my sense of smell.”

“STILINSKI, LAHEY, ARE YOU STILL IN HERE?”

“Alright, fine.” Stiles finally caved, pulling his helmet on when Coach bellowed into the room. “We’ll go after practice, just keep the whole temper fangs under wraps, alright? Don’t try to eat me.”

Isaac’s smile grew into something that Stiles thought to be truly unfair. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys, my computer was down for over a week and it had this fic on it. I'll be posting two chapters tonight to make it up to you :) 
> 
> For Katie.

The more Stiles thought about it, the more going out into the woods with Isaac seemed like a bad idea. Not only because he was struggling with his anger; it wouldn’t have been the first time that Stiles was cornered with an enraged werewolf, and he usually managed to get out just fine (usually, being the key word). It also had a lot to do with what happened in Derek’s loft, and although it seemed shallow and perhaps a bit childish, Stiles was terrified that Isaac would use the opportunity to mention his slightly inappropriate suggestion and rushed exit. The last thing he needed was a werewolf to know that Stiles found him physically attractive, either of them. He was already putting himself into enough danger now that his best friend was bit, he didn’t need to be emotionally compromised even more considering everything that Isaac, Derek and Scott got dragged into.

 _It’s not like you wouldn’t already be devastated if any of them died,_ Stiles thought to himself as he ran into the field, but he knew that wasn’t entirely the point. Isaac and Derek were his friends (on good days). Anything more than that would make everything a lot more difficult, and when your friends knew that you were interested in them beyond the usual expectations of going to Super Model High it didn’t always end well.

Apparently the game had started. Stiles wasn’t paying attention, being so lost in his own thoughts, and by the time Coach yelled his name he looked over to see a lacrosse ball hurtling directly toward his face mask. He winced, blindly lifting his stick on the off chance that he could catch it before it collided with his money maker, and he was briefly surprised when he heard the soft ‘thwish’ of the ball hitting net. He didn’t feel the weight of the catch, however, and when he opened his eyes he had realized why.

Isaac managed to move to him in time, his stick stretched to extend his reach and catch the throw directly before Stiles’ face. “Got it.” Lahey mumbled it so quietly that it must have been for only Stiles to hear, and the werewolf didn’t look at him as he ran off with his catch to pass it. Stiles blinked and his cheeks were hot in embarrassment, but he straightened his helmet and jogged off, deciding that he would find a part of the field that was a little less…active.

Practice seemed to drag on, and despite his efforts Stiles was having a hard time concentrating on the challenge before him. He had more than a few close calls, his thoughts drifting off so often that he barely saw any of the passes thrown at him, and yet he was never hit nor injured. Isaac was there for every one, showing up out of nowhere from his previous location on the field, and before Stiles could take a hit to the face or body Isaac was there, catching it and passing it off to someone else. It happened so often, in fact, that Scott gave Stiles a bewildered look, to which Stiles could only shrug in absolute confusion. Isaac was covering Stiles the entire game, and he knew why just as much as Scott did.

For the last ten minutes of practice Stiles had tried to concentrate on an excuse to get away, not wanting to have to explain to Scott why he couldn’t hang out after school, and it wasn’t until Scott showered and changed into a pair of nicer clothes stowed in his duffel bag that Stiles remembered he had a date with Kira tonight. He briefly questioned whether Isaac knew that as well, and if that was the reason he seemed so eager to go digging around in the woods today, but if that was the case then Stiles was grateful. He knew that Scott and Derek didn’t want to assume anything about the body that was found, and he wasn’t eager to push the subject further with either of them. The idea of someone killing small children was just too much - it was easier to pray that the police could handle it on their own. He showered quickly, making sure to avoid a certain someone before they walked in, but it didn’t stop him from seeing Isaac swagger past him in nothing but a swim suit. Muscle looked tense under Isaac’s skin from so much movement on the field, most of it probably rooting from his insistence to save Stiles’ backside for the majority of their practice session. His skin was flawless, and Stiles had to turn his head quickly to avoid being caught staring at how very unfair it all was. The boy looked like he was carved out of freakin’ marble, and Stiles was reminded of yet another downside of being surrounded by werewolves on a daily basis. Fangs, and zero percent body fat.

He dressed and sat on a bench with his backpack at his feet, waiting for Isaac to walk out, and when he finally did most of the other players had already left. Scott waved a quick farewell, but he glanced over at the showers and then back at Stiles to convey that they would speak about Isaac’s strange behavior on the field later. Stiles returned the look with a half-hearted nod and a wave. _Great. Looking forward to it._ Isaac finally walked out dripping, bare feet padding noisily on the wet tile as he moved to his locker and grab a towel. Stiles was very determined to stare at an uninteresting fringe in his shoelace, refusing to divert his attention away until he was near positive that Isaac was fully dressed. The last thing he needed was a mortifying repeat of the week before.

“You ready to go?” Isaac came around the corner of the lockers. The shirt that he wore looked half a size too small, clinging to his torso and arms as if painted onto him, and Stiles took a moment to watch the lazy stroll that Isaac so often carried himself with before swallowing forcefully past a dry throat.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” His voice cracked under the weight of his distraction but he forced past it, standing up with curling and straightening fingers. If Isaac noticed the lack of confidence in his voice he didn’t react, moving only to throw his bag over his shoulder and train a gaze of ice blue upon Stiles expectantly. He moved, assuming that Lahey wanted him to led the way, and he traveled out into the student parking lot to find his Jeep. Rides with Isaac were noticeably different than those that Stiles had with Derek. The latter rarely spoke unless directly provoked, but the former seemed to have no problem striking up conversation the second Stiles turned his key in the ignition.

“You seemed distracted out on the field today.”

Stiles’ grip tightened upon the steering wheel despite the lack of accusation in Isaac’s observation. There was no way that he could have known just how nervous Stiles was about being alone with him, or how terrified he was that their previous encounter would be mentioned, and yet the irrational part of his brain convinced him, fully, that Isaac was toying with him. “Yeah, well…” he gave a delayed facial shrug and attempted to silence his bouncing thoughts. “Didn’t seem to matter, you were pretty on point, huh? Usin’ those… werewolf powers out there like a boss. You were everywhere.” The comment wasn’t necessarily false, but Stiles annunciated it like a question, attempting to suggest how strange it seemed that Isaac was always there.

His passenger seemed to pick up on the strange tone but returned his dismissive expression anyway.“Somebody has to cover your ass.”

“Oh, and that somebody is you?” Stiles took a chance to give a quick glance over at Isaac, who was wearing a maddeningly amused smile. He looked away with a newly found sense of frustration. Anger problems his ass… this joker never stopped grinning.

“Why not? You obviously need the help.”

“Ha. Ha, ha ha, god, you’re funny, has anyone ever told you how funny you are? You’re hilarious, seriously.”

Despite his sarcasm, Isaac hadn’t lost his upbeat tone. “No.” He began, “you’re the funny one.”

Stiles opened his mouth in retort but the words seemed to dissipate on his tongue. Isaac had sounded so genuine that Stiles was having a hard time believing that what he said was an attempt at banter, and he tried to glance in Isaac’s direction a few times. The effort was for naught; Isaac was now looking out the window, watching the trees pass by.   


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles had every intention to ask Isaac what he had meant by his little comment, wondering whether it was a dig at his overabundance of dry sarcasm or whether it was, in some way, a round-about compliment. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the right to just ask, the comment itself was so flippant that Stiles was almost positive Isaac meant it as a joke. And yet he sat behind the wheel in silence, chewing the corner of his lip anxiously and mentally scolding himself for letting the moment pass by. _Just ask him. It’s not even a big deal, why are you making this into a big deal? Just be like, ‘Hey Isaac, about me being the funny one, that’s a good thing right? You like that about me, right?’ No, don’t say that, that sounds like something out of a bad Hilary Duff movie. ‘Yo, Isaac, I know you like my jokes, because that’s what you meant, right? It’s nice to feel appreciated, thanks man.’ Oh god, no._ Stiles’ grip tightened on his steering wheel with a set jaw, glaring at the road before him as if he was able to crush his inner turmoil under the tires of his own Jeep. That sounds so stupid. _Alright, alright, it’s okay, it’s cool. Just ask him what he meant by it. Yeah, that’s totally legitimate, just ask him to clarify and if he seems freaked out just say that you were curious. Brush it off. Just be casual about it, don’t be such a freakin’ nerd-_

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

Isaac’s voice cracked into the silence so suddenly that Stiles physically startled. “What? Nothing.” Although he wasn’t looking at the boy sitting beside him he could practically feel an inquisitorial stare boring into the side of his skull.

“You passed the turn off.”

“No I didn’t.” He argued before even considering the alternate possibility. His focus returned to his surroundings as he glanced into the rear view mirror. “I did?”

Isaac gave a snippy response.“Yeah, you totally did. Are you even paying attention?”

“Shut up, I’m paying attention okay? I just missed the turn.” Stiles sounded perhaps a little too defensive as he checked his surroundings and cut the wheel, turning around on the empty road.

“Pay attention,” Isaac ordered to convey his disbelief, “the last thing I want is for you to get us killed, I’m not dying in a Jeep.”

“Hey, first of all, there’s nothing wrong with my Jeep, it’s a good Jeep, alright?” Stiles bickered, almost turning to look at Isaac before deciding against it. He’d probably complain about Stiles taking his eyes off the road or something stupid. “And secondly, don’t pretend that a car accident would kill both of us, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen someone throw a car at you before.”

“No one has ever thrown a car at me.”

“Yeah,” Stiles removed one hand from the wheel to lift his index finger in the air. “But they could have, and I’m pretty sure you’d be just fine.”

Isaac stayed quiet for a few beats, and Stiles actually thought that he had silenced him for good before he retorted sharply, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Stiles spoke quickly in the effort to avoid having to admit that, yeah, alright, it didn’t make sense. “You know what, whatever. The fact is, you’d probably end up walking away from a car accident. I’ve seen you get stabbed and thrown around like, a million bajillion times-”

Isaac interrupted him smugly. “You missed the turn again.”

“ISAAC.” He shouted the werewolf’s name in accusation, as if his second miss was completely Isaac’s fault, and he cut the wheel a little more aggressively this time to turn around again.

“You’re gonna get us killed.”

“I’m not going to get us killed alright? I know how to drive Isaac, shut up!”

The beta pressed on defiantly. “You weren’t paying attention.”

Stiles’ voice exploded, filling the small space of his car. “Isaac, I swear to god I will turn this car around!” Perhaps it was obvious that the young Stilinski was teeming with dramatized frustration, because despite the scowl of discontent he wore he could have sworn he heard Isaac chuckle beside him. It didn’t matter; they both fell silent, and by the time Stiles remembered that he wanted to ask Isaac a question in the first place he had already parked on the side of the road across from where the body was found. Isaac climbed out of the car immediately, leaving Stiles to fumble with the handle of his door before thrusting it open and stumbling out onto the pavement below. “Can you wait for like, two seconds please? Not all of us can move at Barry Allen speed, alright?” He grumbled a few more choice words under his breath as he turned to shut his Jeep door, jogging to catch up with Isaac as the werewolf navigated himself effortlessly into the woods. “You werewolves, man, you never take into consideration that other people can’t just run off on all fours like some freaky Paranormal Activity crap-”

“Shut up. I smell something.” Lahey stopped moving, and Stiles wasn’t sure if it was because he had asked his teammate to slow down or if Isaac was trying to pinpoint whatever scent was in the air. He took the opportunity to catch up with him anyway, stopping when he was finally at Isaac’s right side.

“Wha-”

“Shh.” He lifted his hand to cut Stiles off, staring off at nothing in particular with a determined look set deeply in his eyes. His jaw was tense in concentration, and Stiles would have probably been concerned if he wasn’t taking the time to notice how Isaac’s lips were ever so crooked when he pursed them in intense focus. “I smell… it’s that farm smell. It’s still here.” He was on the move before Stiles could question him, crunching through dead foliage with purpose as if following an invisible arrow only he could see.

Stiles followed with a quickening pulse, anticipation bubbling within him at the mere thought of finding something, anything, that could lead them to the person responsible for the little girl’s brutal murder. Or thing. He had to remind himself that it could still be a thing, despite the fact that both Scott and Derek had insisted on the alternative. They walked for about eleven yards and Stiles keep quiet, assuming that Isaac was too consumed in his own search to respond anyway. Lahey was moving quickly; too quickly for Stiles to follow at an even pace, and after nearly tripping four times Stilinski decided that he would be better off watching his own feet than making sure he stayed at a close enough distance from his classmate.

When Isaac fell still he did so abruptly and Stiles, having been so engrossed in making sure that he didn’t stumble again, collided directly into his back. It was like running into a wall, Isaac giving almost no give to the point where Stiles had to grasp his shoulder to avoid falling back. He gave a gruff sound to express his agitation but was too preoccupied with the way Isaac was slowly kneeling down to complain about the irritating pain that webbed through his face. He waited for a few seconds, rubbing his nose as if to physically will the ache of their bump away, but his impatience won in the end.

“What? What is it, what did you find?” He craned his neck in a failing effort to see over Isaac’s shoulder, and just as his foot moved to step around the boy Lahey glanced over his shoulder to look up at him with perplexity written all over his face. “What?” Stiles pushed on, the impatience he felt seeping into his tone.

Isaac looked back down into the soil as if to remind himself of what he was looking at, and when he spoke he did so in a voice that conveyed a level of confusion that it could have almost been mistaken for self-doubt. “It’s a print…”

“What, like a wolf?” Stiles panicked before he could stop himself, fear hatching deep within his gut. He didn’t want to have to deal with a stray omega, especially one that was powerful enough to shift.

“No…” Isaac continued faintly, his distance doing nothing to calm Stiles’ nerves.

“Then what is i-”

“It’s a hoof.”

The answer caught Stiles so off guard that he momentarily forgot about the uneasiness that was knotting in his stomach. “What?” He finally moved to Isaac’s other side, careful not to step too close in fear of damaging whatever it was that was found. “Like a deer?” He carefully bent his knees to kneel across from him, eyes scanning the soft dirt until he saw precisely what Isaac was referring to. He suddenly understood Lahey’s bemusement.

“No…” Isaac finally responded, eyes lifting to meet Stiles’ gaze as if to make sure that their discovery was just as strange as he felt it to be. “Like a horse.”


	9. Chapter 9

The tension in the air of the Jeep was practically palpable as the boys drove Isaac home to Scott’s house, both of them so consumed by their own thoughts that neither spoke. Stiles was tapping on his steering wheel with one hand while he chewed on the edge of a finger with the other, and Isaac sat completely motionless as he stared out of the windshield, unseeing. Stiles was the first to make a suggestion aloud.

“Maybe it’s like a centaur or something.”

“A centaur.” Isaac repeated him, and although neither of them bothered to look at the other Stiles could hear how absurd Lahey thought that was. He didn’t blame him.

“Yeah. I mean, it could be, right?”

“Centaur’s aren’t a thing.”

“Yeah, neither are werewolves.” Stiles knew that his suggestion was ridiculous, but he needed to speak it aloud. He needed to hear Isaac give a definitive reason of _why_ it was ridiculous so they could move on. It was how theories were built; on the bones of their unbelievable and impossible counterparts.

“I’ve never heard about a centaur skinning a little kid.” Responded Isaac, his infliction suggesting that he knew exactly what Stiles was trying to do. Alright, so maybe it wasn’t some mythical half horse man, but it was a start. They could research more as soon as they returned to Scott’s house. “We have to tell Scott and Derek.”

“No.” Stiles denied Isaac’s request the moment it passed his lips. “No. No way, no one can know that we were out there. They both think that this is nothing, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to deal with the lectures, alright? So… no. No telling Scott and Derek.” Stiles was confident with the finality of his statement, but apparently it wasn’t enough to keep Isaac at bay.

“Are you crazy? We can’t do this ourselves, we’re going to need their help! When has it ever ended well when you decide to do something on your own? When? One time?” Stiles opened his mouth to retort and when nothing came out, Isaac spat, “never. See? Never. It never ends well when you decide to do something on your own. Besides, they’re not going to lecture us, they’re not our parents.”

“Oh- oh my god, alright, I’m sorry, are we talking about the same Derek here?” Stiles glanced over to look at Isaac before his eyes fell back onto the road. “Derek? Derek Hale? King of the ‘I Told You So’ movement? Mister ‘I’m only here to help when I personally think it’s absolutely necessary’ Hale?”

“He does help when it’s absolutely necessary-”

“You sound just like him.” His interruption was bitter and dry, leaving Isaac looking annoyed beside him as they finished the rest of the drive in silence until he pulled into Scott’s driveway. He knew, of course, that Isaac was right, and that they had to tell Scott and Derek what they had found, but he was afraid of the consequences. Scott wasn’t a problem, not really, he could be convinced if Stiles insisted that he was sure there was something more to this. It was Derek that he was concerned about… he didn’t have the blind trust in Stiles that Scott did, and that could end up being a serious issue. He didn’t want to approach them until he had more to bring to the table, something irrefutable, but the longer they waited the bigger the chance got that they would be too late. He didn’t want anybody else to die, and that, above anything else, was why Isaac was right. They couldn’t wait this out. “Look, we’ll tell them, alright?” He turned to face Isaac before he got out of the car, careful to keep his voice neutral. “But we have to be careful. Derek isn’t going to believe us unless we can really convince him, we’re going to have to ease into thi-” A loud knocking on the driver’s side window made Stiles jump, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach when he saw Derek Hale staring at the two of them in the car with suspicion in his eyes. Was that suspicion? Stiles was assuming so, and we was almost positive that panic was written all over his face as he turned back around to face Isaac for an answer. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Lahey seemed tense, his jaw set, but he only shrugged as his gaze switched between Derek staring into the car and Stiles staring directly at him. “Ready to ease into it?” He pulled the handle of his door before waiting for an answer and swung it open to climb out.

Stiles swiped forward to try and grab the hem of Isaac’s shirt in the effort to make him wait, missing him by inches. “What- no! This isn’t- this is _not_ easing!” The passenger door was already slammed shut, and Stiles gave a huff of annoyance before finally moving to leave the Jeep as well.

Derek had moved just far enough for Stiles to stumble out with one inquisitorial eyebrow raised as he watched both boys awkwardly move to stand in front of the vehicle, Isaac strangely stiff and Stiles staring with a newfound interest in his shoe laces. He glanced between them for a moment before his expression darkened, and whether they were trying to be transparent or not, he was obviously getting a sense that wherever they were, it was nowhere good. “Where have you two been?”

Stiles began before Isaac had time to open his mouth. “Funny story, actually. We were at practice and uh-”

Derek interrupted with a familiar strain of impatience. “Practice ended hours ago.”

“Well yeah.” Stiles faltered as he finally managed to glance up at the intense stare that Derek had set upon him, lips moving silently as he weighed the odds of how well he could lie in this moment. Hesitation, stuttering, heartbeat… the odds weren’t high. But it was too soon to tell Derek, they didn’t have enough evidence yet, and admitting that they were meddling in something that Derek had already advised against wasn’t going to end well. “That’s where the funny part starts. You see-”

“We were in the woods.”

Stiles gave a weak cry of protest when Isaac cut in, turning to look at him with a betrayed scowl before glancing back at Derek. Alright, they were in the woods, they could still get out of this if they really wanted to. If Isaac actually exercised his right as a teenager to _lie_ once in a while.

The suspicion in Derek’s face disappeared in place of hesitant confusion. “You were in the woods?”

“Yeah.” Stiles chimed quickly. “We were in the woods, just doing what kids do… in the uh…” he trailed off lamely, “…the woods…”

“We were looking around the crime scene where that body was found.” Isaac wouldn’t shut up. “Stiles thinks that there’s something more to this and I wanted to find out too. We found something.”

Stiles had given up, his arms collapsing at his side and his head falling back to stare at Isaac with an open mouth and eyes full of exasperation. Isaac’s eyes stayed on Derek with confidence, despite the fact that the older wolf’s expression darkened immediately at the mention of them returning to the same location where Stiles found the poor girl.

“You found something.” He repeated Isaac aloud, his low voice somehow deeper and conveying disapproval. Isaac had nodded, and when he didn’t continue Derek pressed on. “What did you find?”

Finally, Isaac seemed to struggle with the answer, and his lashes fluttered for a moment before he swallowed hard and forced out, “Hoof prints.”

“Hoof prints.”

“Yes, hoof prints. Like hooves?” Stiles finally interjected, snapping out of his comatose pose to face Derek completely. If everything was on the table now, all he could do was try his best to convince Hale with everything they had. “And not deer hooves man, I mean like, horse hooves.” Derek opened his mouth but Stiles continued heatedly. “Don’t say ‘horse hooves’.”

Derek’s glower made Stiles step back a pace, but his mouth snapped shut until he looked back at Isaac. When he spoke he did so with a dangerous edge. “You went into the woods by yourselves and found something? What if something was still out there? What would you have done then?” When Isaac didn’t respond he snapped, “well? What?”

Stiles’ lips parted in surprise at Derek’s sudden aggression, and he glanced over at Isaac to see him staring blankly back at Derek, as if through him. He glanced back at the older man with a frown. “Derek, it’s not that-”

“Stiles, shut up.” Derek snipped him off before he could finish before turning back at Isaac. “What if something happened to you out there? Do you think you would be able to protect him? Protect yourself? Both at the same time?” Isaac was still unresponsive and that seemed to fuel Derek’s temper more, his lips already a thin line before he let out a low rumble of frustration and tore his stare away as if to try and calm himself by seeing anything else.

Stiles suddenly felt like what they had done was much worse than what they had _actually_  done, bewildered as he exchanged glances between the other two. The tension between them was almost suffocating. Stiles was afraid that Derek wouldn’t believe them or tell them that they were stupid for wasting their time, but his anger seemed completely unfounded. He seemed to be overreacting, which was something that even Stiles could admit Derek rarely did, and his concern for both of them running off into the woods, for Isaac running off into the woods, didn’t seem logical unless-

_Oh._

_OH._

Stiles’ jaw physically dropped for a moment before he quickly shut it, trying to keep his assumptions to himself, but he felt a physical twist in his chest when he watched Isaac and Derek fume to themselves in silence. He looked on helplessly, unsure if the discomfort in his heart was because he was afraid he had caused a rift between two people who suddenly seemed a little more than just friends or if it was because- _you got ahead of yourself. Isaac wanted to help, anything beyond that was a fabrication you made up. You’re an idiot if you thought that there was the possibility of anything else there, if it’s between you and Derek who the hell do you think is going to come out on top? And he’s obviously the one who is on- shut up. Shut UP._  “It’s not that big of a deal, Derek.” He finally offered truce when the others decided to simmer in their own silence. “We won’t go out there again without telling you, alright? You didn’t seem interested so we decided to go by ourselves, but Isaac will keep you in the loop next time, won’t you?” He turned to see Isaac give a stiff nod, but that seemed to be enough for now.

Derek glanced at Stiles, fire still in his eyes. “And you. Tell me before you decide to be an idiot and search around a crime scene.”

Stiles would have argued but the pit in his stomach kept him compliant, his energy suddenly drained and his eyes tired. “Yeah, I will,” he conceded, and he saw Derek nod before heard him mumbling something about ‘training’ and staring Isaac down until he walked with Hale back to his own vehicle. Stiles was just grateful that they were gone, and when Isaac didn’t say goodbye he didn’t either, instead resorting to climbing back into his own Jeep throwing it into reverse before peeling back out of the driveway. He suddenly felt sick, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed.

_Training. Right._  


End file.
